Somebody to You
by alyssianagrace
Summary: When Hazel met the Winchester boys about six months ago, she never imagined that she would be hunting supernatural creatures with them. She never imagined that she'd be facing the Apocalypse, with angels and demons to boot. Hell, she never imagined that she would be dating one of them. But she wouldn't have it any other way. S5 of SPN S6/7 of DW on hiatus
1. Aftermath

**Hello my lovelies! Welcome back! And for those of you that are new, I suggest reading the first story, **Hunters and Time**. This is the sequel! Things won't really make sense unless you read the first story before this one. Super long chapter for your first, but usually the chapters will be between 4,000 to 5,000 in length.**

**The title of this story comes from a **The Vamps** song that I have been listening to constantly haha.:D  
**

**As always, not beta'd, and I own nothing but Miss Hazel and Peter.**

**Supernatural episode **Sympathy for the Devil**. Please review!**

* * *

Chapter One: Aftermath  


"Who are you three?" a British woman I've never met before snaps, and my eyes dart open to look at her in shock.

"I could ask you the same thing," I breathe, trying to catch my breath and composing myself. I ignore the brunette for a moment and instead focus on my boys. "Dean, Sam, you okay?"

"Do I _look_ okay to you, Hazel?" Dean retorts from his spot flat on the floor.

"You're fine," I chuckle. "Sam?"

"Alive. I think," he answers, also lying on his back on the floor.

"'You think'? Are you two _trying_ to give me a double heart attack? Oh, I hate you both."

"No, you don't," they quickly deny.

I roll my eyes at my boys and pull myself up, taking in my surroundings. New desktop theme. Cool. Like the blue, and the Gallifreyan at the top with Dad's past companion's names.

"Hazel, you okay?" Dean calls.

"May have been a bit overzealous with the death of hell bitch but I'm fine," I try to reassure him. "Oi, British human I don't know. Where's the Doctor?"

"Around somewhere, why?" she answers cautiously.

"What's your name?" I brush off, carefully piloting us into the Time Vortex and keeping a grip on the console so I stay upright. Not even in the Time Vortex can an angel or a demon find us, which is the point.

"Clara, Clara Oswald."

"The lumps on the floor over there are Sam and Dean Winchester," I point them out. "I'm Hazel."

"Nice to meet you; uh, how did you get in here?"

"The TARDIS let me in," I explain simply. "Dean, we're flying!"

"Son of a bitch!" he swears, immediately wrapping himself around a railing. "What kind of girlfriend _are_ you?"

"The best one," I answer cheekily as a glass of hypervodka appears on the console. "Oh, bless you, old girl." I quickly down the shot and the glass disappears.

"Thank you, beautiful," Dean raises his beer at the time ship before busting the cap off with his ring and taking a healthy drink.

"Uh, thanks," Sam says hesitantly, taking his own swig. I roll my eyes but smile fondly at my boys.

"So," I turn back to Clara Oswald, "you said the Doctor was around?"

"Somewhere, not sure where. Why?"

"Is he perhaps with a woman named River Song?"

"Who?"

"Never mind," I wave off sweetly.

"Look, I don't mean to be rude, but who _exactly_ are you three?"

"Well, those two are human-"

"And proud!" Dean interrupts, and I roll my eyes.

"Thank you, sweetheart. Yes, they're human like you -not like tha's a bad thing-, an' I'm the Doctor's daughter. But I think we're still fighting about something, so, unless he sees me, I'm not here."

"Oh-kay," she says slowly. "The Doctor has a daughter?"

"And a son, but that's a story for another time. How long have you known him?"

"Oh, about a day," she laughs. "Is it _always_ this crazy?"

"Yes," I answer without hesitation. "But runnin' for your life is only _half_ the fun, Clara Oswald."

"Don't listen to her, she's crazy."

"Oi! Like you don't love it!" I protest my boyfriend, and he cracks a smile. I don't know how or why, but that reminds me of something. I move back to the console and programme settings to go to Chuck's house. "Dean, we need to make sure Cassie and Chuck are okay," I change my attitude.

"Shit, you're right," he agrees.

"Alright, Sam, no more of your mopin'," I order. "Y'hear me? Cut that out."

"Okay," he says dejectedly and with a sense of giving up. They may both be my boys and I do care for them very much, but Samuel Winchester should not mope around for being deceived and having good intentions. Yes, the road to hell is paved with them, but who am I to judge? I probably would've done the same thing, if I were him.

"Now, I don't expect you two to kiss an' make up just yet, but I do expect you to be nice to each other."

The TARDIS chirps at me mentally, telling me to be careful in her own way.

"I will," I promise softly before raising my voice to a normal speaking level. "Right, we've got a, um, thing to take care of," I tell Clara. "Very important thing, might take all day. If my dad asks, we were never here. The TARDIS will take you to wherever you were going before making a slight detour. Nice to meet you, Clara Oswald," I smile before shooing my boys out ans shutting the blue doors behind me.

"Was-was-was that-"

"Yes, Chuck, that was the TARDIS," I answer as she disappears. "What the ruddy hell happened here?" His whole house is in ruins! Well, okay, maybe exaggerating. The structure is still there, the furniture and decorations and the like are either broken or moved around and damaged.

"Sam... you're okay?" he ignores me.

"What do you mean?" Sam asks.

"My-my last vision. You went, like, full-on Vader. Your body temperature was one-fifty. Your heart rate was two hundred. Your eyes were black."

"Your eyes were black?" Dean interrupts.

"I didn't know," Sam says innocently.

"Hey, uh, Chuck, where's Castiel?" I ask.

"He's dead. Or gone. The archangel smote the crap out of him. I'm sorry. I know how close you were to him, Hazel," he answers apologetically.

"You're sure? I mean, maybe he just vanished into the light or something," Dean suggests, wrapping an arm around me.

"Oh, no. He, like, exploded. Like a water balloon of chunky soup."

"Hey, Chuck, you've got a, uh-" Sam says, gesturing to his own ear.

"Uh...right here?" he asks.

"No, uh," Sam points to the other side of his head.

_Oh my god._

There's a _molar_ in his _hair_.

"I-I-I have to go o-outside for a minute," I stammer before darting out the door into the middle of the street and kneeling down, balancing on the balls of my feet and my hands clenching my bright red hair tight to my scalp as I try desperately to get a handle on myself. It was all too much: Sam breaking out of the panic room, Sam and Dean physically fighting, my human almost dying and having to save him (will _totally_ have to ask Mum about that later, I'd love to know how I could actually do that), losing my human, going to bloody UNIT of all places, finding my human, escaping thanks to Cassie, being forced to leave Cassie at Chuck's by said angel himself, trying to get to Sam before he can kill Lilith and failing miserably, freezing hell bitch's movements so my Dean could kill her, Lucifer being released onto the earth (and if my dad finds out, he'll take me away for sure), the TARDIS coming to our rescue, meeting my dad's new companion (which means something happens to Rory and Amy), and now finding out that my oldest friend has been killed by his own kind.

I never thought I'd say it, but these have been _the longest_ hours of all my lives.

And it's not going to be over any time soon. I know _that_ for a fact.

_God_, I wish I had a smoke.

I haven't smoked in years, but whenever I do, it's my way of dealing with really hard times. Last time I lit a cigarette, it was when Peter died. I wonder if he would be proud of the woman I've become. He had more human in him than I do, so he matured faster than I did. I didn't approve of any of his girlfriends, based solely on the fact that they took his time and attention away from me, but I wonder if he would approve of Dean if he was still alive.

Probably not.

My dad doesn't like my human, much, either. Apparently I'm 'in too much danger' being with him. I told him that I didn't care and that I was old enough to make my own damn decisions, and then proceeded to march out of the TARDIS and seal her doors shout behind me. That was Christmas Day, a little under three months ago, but I don't regret the fact that we haven't spoken or seen each other since. My father means well, he's just very suffocating towards me. And three months isn't even that long, in all honesty. I _do_ talk to my mother frequently, though. She won't blow up in my face if I tell her that I either killed something or got wounded and can't heal myself. She might get a bit mad, but River Song shares my love of dangerous and exciting adventure; my dad I'm sure would rather lock me in the TARDIS never to return. And I _really_ don't want that to happen.

I rise from my crouch in the middle of the road after an impatient mother in a maroon minivan honks at me twice, and decide to head back inside to Chuck's house, tying my hair in a tight ponytail at the nape of my neck to keep it out of my way. As soon as I walk through the front door, though, I'm grabbed by a dick with wings who holds me tight to his chest and an angel blade at my throat.

"Hiya, time brat," Zachariah smiles sweetly, menacingly, as his second henchman holds Dean back by gripping his arm tight. "Now, now, Dean-o, wouldn't want to do anything rash, would we?"

"You sons of bitches jump-started judgement day!" Dean snaps at him.

"_Seriously_ need a smoke," I rasp out.

"Maybe we _let_ it happen. We didn't _start_ anything. Right, Sammy?" he winks. "You had a chance to stop your brother, and you couldn't. So let's not quibble over who started what."

"Leave them alone," I hiss, and the angel holding me tightens his grip around my throat, leaving me completely unable to breathe.

"Watch your tone, _mutt_. You have no say in this," he snaps.

"Don't talk to her like that," Dean says darkly and threateningly. "And let her go."

"Let's just say it was all our faults and move on," Zachariah ignores him. "'Cause like it or not, it's Apocalypse Now. And we're back on the same team again."

"Is that so? If we're on the same team, then why are you holding my girlfriend _hostage_?"

Zachariah makes a motion with his hand and the angel holding me drops me onto the floor, leaving me gasping for breath. Dean's immediately at my side, helping me to stand and move away from the dicks with wings. I notice his hand is bleeding but say nothing.

"You okay?" he asks, wiping away the bit of blood the bastard managed to draw with his blade from my neck.

"Breathless," I admit, taking in deep breaths and coughing repeatedly. Yes, I have a respiratory bypass, but it doesn't work as well as it should. I'm not full Time Lord. My little bit of human throws everything off.

"You want to kill the Devil. We _want_ you to kill the Devil. It's," Zachariah continues as if nothing happened, "synergy."

"And I'm just supposed to trust you?" Dean says incredulously, holding me tight to his side (I definitely don't complain). "Cram it with walnuts, ugly."

"This isn't a game, son. Lucifer is powerful in ways that defy description. We need to strike now, hard and fast, before he finds his vessel."

"His vessel? Lucifer needs a meat suit?" Sam asks.

"He's an angel," I croak.

"Them's the rules," Zachariah finishes. "And when he touches down, we're talking Four Horsemen, red oceans, fiery skies- the greatest hits. You can stop him, Dean, but you need our help."

"You stay away from my boys," I snap, my voice coming back to normal with every word spoken.

"_You_ don't power over a thing, here, missy."

"You listen to me, you two-faced douche," Dean starts. "After what you did, I don't want jack _squat_ from you!"

"You listen to me, boy! You think you can rebel against us? As Lucifer did?" he roars before looking to Dean's hand. "You're bleeding."

"Oh, yeah. A little insurance policy in case you dicks showed up." Dean lets me go to slide one of Chuck's white doors out and slams his hand on the sigil, and the three angels disappear. "Learned that from my friend, Cas, you son of a bitch," he says to the air. I can feel the shallow wound on my neck closing up as I reach for some paper towels on the counter to press around Dean's bloody hand.

"This sucks ass," Chuck speaks up. I roll my eyes, knowing he's right, but busy myself with helping my human.

"Why are you always taking care of me?" Dean asks me softly.

"Because I like to," I tell him simply, and he lets me do just that.

* * *

"Hi, Sammy," I smile at him when Dean refuses to acknowledge his brother as he walks into the motel room and instead focuses intently on the gun he's loading.

"Hey, Haze. Hey, Dean," he adds but gets no response. Sam eventually gives up and tosses us each hex bags before standing on the side of the room.

"Hex bags?" I ask curiously.

"No way the angels will find us with those. Demons, either, for that matter," he explains.

"Woo hoo, point for Samster," I smile, and he cracks one in return.

"Where'd you get it?" Dean asks gruffly, still not chancing a look at his brother, and Sam's smile drops.

"I, uh, I made it," Sam answers.

"How?"

He hesitates. "Uh, I... I learned it from, uh, Ruby."

I may not have liked the bitch (she did try to kill me once before, but it was me that helped my Dean kill her), but she knew her stuff.

"Speaking of. How you doing? Are you jonesing for another hit of bitch blood or what?" Dean asks, faking disinterest. I think Sam knows this, too; that he's faking, that is.

"I-it's weird. Uh, tell you the truth, I'm fine. No shakes, no fever. It's like... I don't even know," he answers honestly. "I don't know, man."

It falls silent again, and I itch to do _something_ productive, but I don't know what. I could fix my vortex manipulator? When I tried to get to Dean yesterday, the angels set up some sort of force field preventing time and space travels. I literally bounced off it and landed on my arse, and that was _not_ fun. Anyway, because of that force field or whatever, my manipulator's shot. Which means I have to go in and repair everything. Oh, joy.

Pulling out my little repair kit, I walk over to the table Dean is occupying and proceed to take half. Then, I undo the zipper on the side and unroll the brown package, revealing the many tiny (normal and not sonic) screwdrivers, wrenches, and spare nuts and screws and wires, all in their own little clear pouches. I unstrap my beloved manipulator and unscrew the back plate so I can get into the circuitry.

"Dean-"

"Sam."

Well, at least they're talking to each other now.

"It's okay. You don't have to say anything," Dean waves off.

"Well, that's good. Because what can I even say? 'I'm sorry'? 'I screwed up'? Doesn't really do it justice, you know? Look, there's nothing I can do or say that will ever make this right-"

"So why do you keep bringing it up?" he yells, rising abruptly from his chair.

"Don't shout, sweetheart," I tell him. "We have neighbours."

He sits back down in his chair and watches my movements intensely.

"Look, all I'm saying is, why do we have to put this under a microscope? We made a mess. We clean it up. That's it," he says simply. "So, say this is just any other hunt. You know? What do we do first?"

"We'd, uh, we'd figure out where the thing is," Sam answers.

"Alright. So we just got to find... the devil."

It falls silent again and Sam pulls out his father's journal and takes a seat on the bed.

"Boys," I call, and I feel a set of green eyes and a set of brown ones on me. "I am not going to play mediator, understand? I am not going to get in the middle. Do not _bring _me in the middle. You can be pissed at each other all you like; I don't care about that. Just, try not to be intentionally malicious or overly hurtful, and no physical injuries. Do you understand?"

"Yeah," Sam says in a small voice.

"Yeah, okay," Dean agrees in an even small voice.

"I don't expect you to kiss and make up right this mo', though I wish you would. But Dean, Sam didn't know. He was manipulated by hell bitch. An', Sam, this would've happened either way. You heard what Zachariah said, they 'let' it happen. Don't beat yourself up too terribly about it."

Satisfied with my words, I turn back to my vortex manipulator and bury my fingers in its inner workings.

* * *

We all have our own ways of busying ourselves. Sam and I haven't moved in the last hour, but Dean gave up and went to watch some telly.

_"How would you then explain an earthquake, a hurricane, and multiple tornadoes, all at the same time, all around the globe?"_

_"Two words. Carbon emissions."_

"Yeah, right, wavy gravy," he tells the man and woman on the television.

"They can't hear you, sweetheart," I chirp, and he turns to look at me.

"Hypocrite. You yell at the T.V. all the time," he accuses fondly.

"If you put on some _Criminal Minds_ then I'll really yell."

"Nope. No procedural cop show dramas," he quickly shoots me down, and I roll my eyes fondly.

"Well, I don't like you, either," I joke, and he takes no offence at it. "Seriously, though, if you watched the prank war episode between Reid and Morgan, you'd probably fall in love."

"Yeah, I doubt it, Hazelnut."

"M'tellin' you. S'awesome."

Someone knocking at the door interrupts our little conversation, and Dean draws his gun.

"I got it," Sam decides, cautiously going to the door and answering it with a, "You okay, lady?" after a moment or two of weird breathing.

"Sam... is it really you?" she asks. He turns his head and mouths 'help' to me and Dean. The woman walks closer to him and places a hand on his chest. "And you're so firm."

"Uh, do I know you?" he asks when he's sure I won't come to his rescue.

"No. But _I_ know _you_. You're Sam Winchester. And you're, not what I pictured," she says, looking at Dean who has carefully concealed his firearm. "Who the hell are you?" she looks at me.

"I'm Dean's girlfriend; who the hell are you?" I mock her American accent and copy her question. She scowls.

"I'm Becky," she pushes her way into the room and Sam lets her. "Dean Winchester doesn't have a girlfriend."

"Yeah, _actually_, he _does_, and I'm standin' right here." I cross my arms and move more towards my man.

"Then why aren't you in any of the books?" Becky retorts.

"Because I come in later," I say just as snippy, and Dean stands and wraps an arm around me.

"I read all about you guys. And I've even written a few, uh," she giggles before turning serious again. "Anyway, Mr. Edlund told me where you were."

"Wonderful, he'll be gettin' an angry phone call," I say darkly, and she glares at me.

"He's got a message, but he's being watched. Angels. Nice change-up to the mythology, by the way. The demon stuff was getting kind of old."

Oh my god I can't stand her. I just can't.

"Right. Just, um, what's the message?" Sam asks, trying to diffuse the tension.

"He had a vision. 'The Michael sword is on earth. The angels lost it.'"

"The Michael sword?" Dean repeats sceptically.

"Becky, does he know where it is?" Sam asks.

"In a castle, on a hill made of forty-two dogs."

"Forty-two dogs?" I ask incredulously, planning Chuck and Becky's murders. Sherlock, if he's not still terribly pissed at me, would be proud. "Did you get that right?" Vat of acid for her, maybe...

"It doesn't make sense, but that's what he said," she says confidently, stepping closer to Sam. "I memorized every word. For you." She places a hand on his chest.

"Um, Becky, c- uh, can you... quit touching me?"

"No."

No. Vat of acid would be too easy for her.

"Great, message delivered. Buh-bye now," I yank on her arm rudely, push her out the door, and slam it shut. "What?" I protest when both boys are smiling at me. "I don't like her."

"Yeah, and it shows."

"Bite your tongue, Dean Winchester."

He does, quite literally, and I smack him.

* * *

Another knock on the door.

"If that is Becky, I will shoot her," I vow, taking Dean's pistol from the waistband of his jeans and going to answer the door. "Oh. Hiya, Uncle Bobby."

"Good to see you kids all in one piece," he says, hugging all of us in turn. Bit weird. I mark it off to just nerves, but something has me wondering...

"You weren't followed, were you?" Dean asks.

"You mean by angels, demons, or Sam's new superfan?"

"You heard," Sam scoffs with a smile.

"Oh, I heard, _Romeo_. So. Sword of Michael, huh?"

"You think we're talking about the _actual_ sword form the _actual_ archangel?" Dean asks sceptically.

"You better friggin' hope so," Bobby scoffs.

"Why?" I ask curiously, and he makes a trip to Dean's Impala he brought over for us and bringing in a book. He opens it to a painting of Michael beating the crap out of a bunch of other angels. Or, at least, that's what it looks like to me.

"_That's_ Michael. Toughest sumbitch they got."

"You kidding me? Tough?" Dean asks as Sam flips through the books to see more paintings. "That guy looks like Cate Blanchett."

Nope. No idea who Cate Blanchett is, if you were wondering.

"Well, I wouldn't want to meet him in a dark alley, believe me," Bobby says earnestly. "He commands the Heavenly Host. During the last big dust-up upstairs, he's the one who booted Lucifer's ass to the basement. Did it with that sword. So if we can find it-"

"We can kick the Devil's ass all over again," Sam finishes. "Alright, so, where do we start?"

"Divvy up and start reading- try and make sense of Chuck's nonsense."

"Bobby, are you feeling okay?" I ask as Sam heads for another stack of books.

"Fine, Hazel, why?"

"You're actin'... off."

"Dunno what you mean," he waves off. "Hey, Sam? You alright?"

"No, actually. Bobby, this is all my fault. I'm sorry."

"Sam," Dean says sharply.

"Lilith did not break the final seal. Lilith _was_ the final seal."

"Sam, stop it."

"I killed her, and I set Lucifer free."

"You _what_?" Bobby exclaims.

"You guys warned me about Ruby, the demon blood, but I didn't listen. I brought this on."

"Samuel Winchester, if you continue on this self-depreciating way of speakin', I will slap you," I threaten. Bobby rises from his chair, mouth parted, and looks incredulously at the younger Winchester.

"You're damn right you didn't listen. You were reckless and selfish and arrogant."

"I'm sorry," Sam apologises weakly.

"Oh, yeah? You're sorry you started _Armageddon_? This kind of thing don't get forgiven, boy. If, by some miracle, we pull this off... I want you to lose my number. You understand me?"

"Knock it off, Bobby Singer!" I snap.

"Why are you defending him?" he snaps right back at me.

"An' why _wouldn't_ I?"

"He kick-started Armageddon!"

"Your 'Armageddon' was unavoidable! Jesus Christ, Bobby, that is _Sam_!"

"There's an old church nearby. Maybe I'll go read some of the lore books there," Sam says softly, gathering books to take with him.

"Yeah. You do that," Bobby snaps.

"Samster-"

"It's okay, Hazel," he says, and I let him go against my better judgement.

Something is _seriously_ wrong, but I'm not sure what yet. And Dean stays silent through the whole ordeal. I sigh loudly and angrily and tell Dean I'm going out.

"Where?" he asks.

"Not to Sam, if that's what you're wondering. He asked me not to," I roll my eyes. I don't like fighting between my two boys. "I'm going to a mini mart."

* * *

I picked up a pack of smokes and a lighter. Dean, actually, doesn't mind my smoking, and instead of protesting, takes one and lights it up.

"I never woulda guessed that your daddy was right," Bobby says abruptly while we're researching.

"About what?"

"About your brother."

I look up at Bobby in shock.

"What John said- you save Sam or kill him. Maybe..."

"Maybe what?"

"Maybe we shouldn't have tried so hard to save him."

"Bobby."

"He ended the _world_, Dean. And we weren't strong enough to stop him proper. That's on _us_. I'm just saying, your dad was right."

Alarm bells! Listen to the damn alarm bells, Hazel!

"Dad," Dean says, connecting something or other and darts over to his duffel to rummage through it.

"What is it, sweetheart?"

"It's got to be in here somewhere." He pulls out a plastic bag filled with business cards and starts going through them.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Bobby asks from his spot at the table.

"Here," he pulls out a card successfully, chuckling. "I don't believe it. I _don't_ believe it."

"What the hell is it?" Bobby asks again, standing as Dean walks over to us.

"It's a card for my dad's lockup in upstate New York."

I take it from his hand and read it. "'Castle Storage. Forty-two Rover Hill.'"

"Castle on a hill of forty-two dogs," he quotes the crazy lady, and I smile.

"So you think your dad had the Michael sword all this time?" Bobby questions. I don't know, there's just _something_ off about Bobby. I can't tell what just yet, but there's definitely _something_.

"I don't know. I'm not sure what else Chuck could have meant."

"Yeah. Okay. It's good enough for me."

_Something's not right!_

"Hey, uh, Uncle Bobby?" I call.

"Yeah, kid?"

"Christo," I say, and immediately his eyes flash black and he smiles maliciously.

"Aw, hell," he says sarcastically. "You got me." The demon springs on Dean, knocking him through the barrier that separates the kitchen and the beds and flat on the floor, where he then yanks him up and slams him down again. Then, he grabs him by the throat as two other demons come in and the male one holds me by _my_ throat. I figured it was coming and had ample time to fill my lungs and my bypass so I'd be better off than last time.

"I always knew you were a big, dumb, slow, dim pain in the ass, Dean. But I never dreamt you were so V.I.P.," the woman demon says, picking up the demon killing knife off the table. "I mean, _you're_ gonna ice the devil? You? If I'd have known that, I'd have ripped your pretty, pretty face off ages ago."

"Ruby," Dean tries. But that wouldn't make any sense, would it? Dean killed her.

"Try again. Go back further."

"Meg?"

"Hi," she smiles. "These are the days of miracle and wonder, Dean. Our father's among us. You know we're all dreaming again for the first time since we were human? It's heaven on earth. Or hell. We really owe your brother a fruit basket."

"You like the sound of your own voice, don'tcha?" I croak out before the demon tightens his grip, completely cutting off my airway.

"Well, lookie here. It's the alien mutt," Meg turns and smiles at me. "What would big brother say if you knew you were fucking a human? What would Dean's daddy say if he knew his son was fucking a _creature_?" She spits that last word at me, and I lunge to kick her but the demon holds me flush to his body. God_dam__n_, I've got to stop this from happening next time. "But _you_, on the other hand," she continues, turning back to Dean, "you're the only bump in the road. So every demon -every single one- is just dying for a piece of you."

"Get in line," he says cockily.

"Oh, I'm in the front of the line, baby. Let's ride." My anger hits a boiling point when that bitch kisses my human. He doesn't kiss back, which makes me slightly better, but I'm still gonna tear her limb from limb.

"Sorry, sweetcheeks, but I've got a girlfriend," he winks, spitting the taste of her out of his mouth and onto the floor.

"You know, your surrogate daddy's still awake, screaming in there," Meg says, matter-of-fact. "And I want him to know how it feels slicing the life out of you." She hands the knife to the demon inside Bobby, and he raises it to Dean's throat.

"Bobby!" Dean tries to snap him out of it. I stomp hard on the demon's foot and he releases his hold on my throat just enough.

"Uncle Bobby, I know you're in there!" I shout before the demon can close my windpipe. "Don't let it hurt Dean!"

"Now!" Meg snaps.

"Bobby! No!" Dean tries one last time as Bobby raises the knife. Oh, Jesus Christ and the sweet Mother of the Goddess. Bobby takes control and stabs himself in the abdomen instead of Dean, effectively killing the demon but putting his own life in jeopardy. I scream, well, it sounds more like a squeak, in terror.

I have to get away from this demon and help my human and Bobby. So, I let my legs fall out from under me and go boneless, effectively loosening the demon's grip on me. He falters and I kick his legs away so he lands on his back. Scrambling towards the demon killing knife, he grabs my ankle and pulls me back, and I kick him in the face. He releases me again and I manage to grab the knife and stab his arm. When that doesn't work, I get him right in the ribs, then, as I'm about to throw it at Meg, she smokes out.

"Fuck, I was so close!" I swear, then join Sam (when did he get here?) at Bobby's side. "Bobby, look at me," I frame his face with my hands and make him do just that. "You're gonna be okay, get me?"

"Yeah," he says weakly.

* * *

I've known Bobby for _years_ and there is no way in _any_ available or occupied microscopic crevice of this universe that he is going to die today. Not only will I not allow it, but he can survive from that injury.

I know my Uncle Bobby, the one that took me in, no questions asked when I was very small and needed a place to stay, would be okay. I pull out a cigarette from my pack and light it, pulling in the smoke and holding it in my lungs before blowing it out in Dean's car. Smoking wouldn't kill me the way it would a human; my accelerated healing would stop anything right in its tracks.

_God_, it has been a stressful couple of days. And it's not over yet. I knew Dean didn't want to do it, but we had to follow that lead before the demons could. The 'Michael Sword' or whatever the hell it was called (I didn't particularly care) could help us kill Lucifer.

"They took Bobby into surgery," Dean says as he climbs into the car and pulls the door shut. Sam climbs in the back and cracks a window. I just roll my eyes and blow out more smoke. My human peels out of the parking lot and screeches onto the road, easily breaking about a million traffic laws, but I don't blame him.

"Bobby'll be okay," I tell him.

"I know," he says gruffly. Throwing the dead cigarette butt out the window, I curl up closer to Dean and he throws an arm around me. "I think that Sam left them your number."

"Really?" I turn around to look at Sam, and he nods.

"You're easier to reach than we are," Sam says simply. I blow him an air kiss in thanks and slowly fall asleep on Dean's shoulder. That man is like my own personal pillow, and I don't think he minds too much, to be honest.

* * *

Dean wakes me when we pull up to Castle Storage and hands me a sawed off shotgun. I stretch, rub my eyes, and carefully follow them into the storage room. There are about three dead demons sprawled out on the floor. They beat us here, but what killed them?

"I see you told the demons where the sword is."

Great. I turn around to glare at the dick with wings.

"Oh, thank god. The angels are here," Dean says sarcastically.

"I _thought_ I smelled your stink around here," I sneer. "Cockiness and desperation."

"And to think," Zachariah continues, "they could have grabbed it any time they wanted." With his stupid angel 'mojo', as my boys call it, he pulls the door shut, trapping us here. "It was right in front of them."

"What do you mean?" Sam asks cautiously.

"We may have planted that particular piece of prophecy inside Chuck's skull, but it happened to be true. We _did_ lose the Michael sword. We _truly_ couldn't find it. Until now," the bastard smiles. When he smiles, it is not comforting. It's actually kind of scary. "You've just hand-delivered it to us."

"We don't have anything," Dean informs the dick.

"It's _you_, chucklehead. _You're_ the Michael sword."

Oh, son of a bitch.

"What, you thought you could _actually_ kill Lucifer? You simpering wad of insecurity and self-loathing?" I may or may not have verbally growled at that, but, hey. My human. "No," Zachariah continues. "You're just a _human_, Dean. And not much _of_ one."

"Humans can do anything they put their minds to," I argue with malice in my voice. "Dean an' Sam Winchester especially."

"What do you mean, I'm 'the sword'?" Dean snaps.

"You're Michael's weapon," he says simply. "Or, rather, his... receptacle."

"I'm a _vessel_?"

"You're _the_ vessel. _Michael's_ vessel."

"How? Why-why me?"

"Because you're chosen! It's a great honour, Dean."

"Oh, yeah," he retorts sarcastically. "Yeah, life as an angel condom. That's _real_ fun." I have to bite back a small smile at my man's sass. "I think I'll pass, thanks."

"Joking. Always joking. Well," the angel mutters, pissed. "No more jokes." He makes a gun with his fingers and aims it at Sam. "Bang."

"God!" Sam groans as Zachariah breaks his knee.

"You son of a bitch!" Dean fumes while I bend down to check on Sam.

"Keep mouthing off, I'll break more than his legs," the angel threatens.

"Heal him," I order, malice in my tone. "_Now_."

"I am completely and utterly through screwing around."

"So am I!"

"The war has begun. We don't have our general. That's bad. Now, Michael is going to take his _vessel_ and lead the final charge against the adversary. You understand me?"

"_You_ started this war," I bite. "Sucks you don't have your general. But your precious _Michael_ is _not_ going to take Dean, and _you_ are going to fix Sam. _Right_ now. You understand me?"

"You should not be mocking me, little girl. You should be _terrified_."

"The only thing that scares _me_ is _Daleks_."

"How many humans die in the crossfire, huh?" Dean demands. "A million? Five? Ten?"

"Probably more," Zachariah admits with no shame. "If Lucifer goes unchecked, you know how many die? _All_ of them. He'll roast the planet alive."

"Then why don't you have your little death match on some abandoned planet somewhere?" I shout.

"Because it doesn't work that way!" he yells back. "This is _our_ planet, too! _We_ were created _first_!"

"There's a reason you're telling me this instead of just nabbing me," Dean says, connecting the dots. "You need my _consent_. Michael needs my say-so to ride around in my skin."

"Unfortunately, yes."

"Well, there's got to be another way."

"There is _no_ other way. There _must_ be a battle. Michael _must_ defeat the Serpent. It is written."

"Yeah, maybe. But, on the other hand... eat me. The answer's no!"

"Okay. How about this? Your friend, Bobby- we know he's gravely injured. Uh, say yes, and we'll heal him. Say no, he'll never walk again."

"No."

"Then how about we heal _you_ from... stage-four stomach cancer?"

Dean starts coughing and slumps to his knees, and immediately I'm at his side.

"No," he wheezes, mouth all bloody.

"Then let's get really creative. Uh, let's see how... Sam does without his lungs." Sam instantly gasps for air. "Are we having fun yet?"

"You sadistic son of a bitch," I spit at him, and he backhands me.

"You've got _human_ in you, time brat. Let's see how you do when I stop one of your hearts." I feel my right heart slow and come to a stop, but that doesn't faze me one bit.

"Is that the best you've got?" I taunt. "Had problems with that one all my life, dick. M'used to it stopping on a whim."

"Doesn't matter. You're going to say yes, Dean."

"Just kill us," he coughs.

"Kill you? Oh, no. I'm just getting started."

All of a sudden, there's a bright white light as one of Zachariah's little henchmen is killed by non other than, Cassie?

"Cassie," I gasp happily. "Look out!" Another angel swings his blade and Cassie moves out of the way and kicks him into a wall. Then he punches him, and the other angel swings back and hits his mark. Cas cuts him and he groans, but he kicks his knife away as the other angel lunges at him. Cassie slams him into the grated wall again and into concrete as well. After gaining the upper hand, Castiel literally stabs him in the back.

"How are you..."

"Alive?" Cas finishes Zachariah's question. "That's a good question. How did Cara's spaceship know where to find them? Another good question. 'Cause the angels didn't do it. I think we both know the answer, don't we?"

"No. That's not possible."

"It scares you. Well, it should. Now, put these boys back together and _go_. I won't ask twice."

Zachariah flies away, Dean and Sam miraculously fine.

"I bloody _love_ you, Castiel!" I beam, hopping up to wrap my arms around my friend. "An' I'm _so_ glad you're okay."

"You three need to be more careful," he says, but he does crack a smile in my direction.

"Yeah, I'm starting to get that," Dean says. "Your frat brothers are bigger dicks than I thought."

"I don't mean the angels. Lucifer is circling his vessel. And once he takes it, those hex bags won't be enough to protect you." He steps towards us and places a hand on my boys' chests, and they groan.

"What the hell was that?" Dean asks in a strained tone.

"An Enochian sigil. It'll hide you from every angel in creation, including Lucifer."

"What, you just brand us with it?"

Cas moves to do the same for me but I stop him.

"Yeah, 'fore you do that, I need you to hit me _really_ hard. Right here," I point to a spot on my back. "Gotta get my other heart beatin'." He hesitates. "Oh, c'mon, Cassie! You're not gonna hurt me, just help me out!" Castiel forms a fist and hits me where I asked, and my heart starts up again. "Oh, that's perfect! Tha's wonderful! How do you people cope with just one; I mean _honestly_."

Cassie shuts me up by branding the sigil into my ribs.

"To answer your question, Dean, no. I carved it into your ribs."

"Ooh, I can feel it, too," I press fingers into my ribcage.

"Hey, Cas, were you really dead?" Sam asks.

"Yes," he answers.

"Then how are you back?" Dean asks.

Cas says nothing and instead disappears.

"Tha's cheatin'!" I call, knowing he can hear me.

* * *

"'Unlikely to walk again'? Why, you snot-nosed son of a bitch! Wait till I get out of this bed!"

I bite back a small laugh as a doctor flees from Bobby's hospital room.

"I'll use my game leg and kick your friggen' ass!"

"You tell 'im, Uncle Bobby!"

"Yeah, you _better_ run!"

"Don't encourage him," Dean orders, and I stick my tongue out at him.

"You believe that yahoo?" Bobby asks incredulously.

"Screw him, you'll be fine."

"So, let me ask the million-dollar question," Sam says. "What do we do now?"

"Well, we save as many as we can for as _long_ as we can, I guess," Bobby answers. "It's _bad_. Whoever wins, Heaven or Hell, we're boned."

"Oi, no quitter talk," I order.

"Hey, that healing ability of yours only work for you, or..."

"I'm sorry, Uncle Bobby," I say apologetically, unshed tears in my eyes. "I could try, but I'd either kill you, kill me, or make you like Jack."

"It's okay, kid."

"I should've seen it sooner. I-I _knew_ somethin' was off, but I couldn't place it."

"Kid. It's not your fault," Bobby says sternly. "I'll be fine."

I walk over to him and give him a hug, and he embraces me just as tight.

"What if _we_ win?" Dean asks. "I'm serious. I mean, screw the angels and the demons and their shit Apocalypse. Like Hazel said back at the lockup, they want to fight a way, they can find their _own_ planet. This one ours, and I say they get the hell off it. We take 'em all on. We kill the devil. Fuck, we even kill Michael if we have to, but we do it our own damn selves."

"And how are we supposed to do all this, genius?" Bobby pops his bubble.

"I got no idea. But what I do have is a G.E.D. and a 'give 'em hell' attitude, and I'll figure it out." I smile proudly at my human and he winks at me.

"You are nine kinds of crazy, boy."

"It's been said. Listen, you stay on the mend. We'll see you in a bit."

"Bye, Uncle Bobby," I kiss his cheek and follow Dean out.

"Sam?" Bobby stops him. I let the two have their moment and stay with Dean in the hallway. About a minute later, Sam walks out and we make our way to the parking lot in silence.

"You know, I was thinking, Dean- maybe we could go after the Colt," Sam suggests.

"Why? What difference would that make?" Dean asks.

"Well, we could use it on Lucifer. I mean, you just said back there-"

"I just said a bunch of crap for Bobby's benefit." Dean stops in the middle of the road to look at his brother. "I mean, I'll fight. I'll fight till the last man, but let's at least be honest. I mean, we don't stand a snowball's chance, and you know that. I mean, hell, you of all people know that."

"Dean. Is there something you wanna say to me?"

"I tried, Sammy. I mean, I really tried. But I just can't keep pretending that everything's all right. Because it's not. And it's never going to be. You chose a demon over your own brother and look what happened."

"I would give anything, _anything_ to take it all back."

"I know you would. And I know how sorry you are. I do. But, man... you were the one that I depended on the most. And you let me down in ways that I can't even..." Dean struggles to look for the right word, but I stay out of it. "I'm just-I'm having a hard time forgiving and forgetting here. You know?"

"What can I do?"

"Honestly? Nothing."

Sam nods sadly.

"I just don't... I don't think that we can ever be what we were. You know? I just... I just don't think I can trust you."

Last nail in the coffin. Sam's face falls but Dean doesn't see it as he climbs in his precious Impala.

* * *

**TBC**

**Please review!**


	2. Reacquainting

**Hello guys! New chapter! I stayed up all night to finish this, so, you're welcome!**

**Hehe no but seriously the reason I stayed up all night is because my brother is a little shit and demanded that I make him a sandwich this morning, so I waited until he fell asleep before going in and waking him and asking him if he wanted it yet. This started at 4:30 and I woke him up every hour until 8:00. I'm evil, I know. He finally said he didn't want it so I left him alone. I saw the sunrise this morning! It was beautiful at my house! Perfect parts clouds and sky:D  
**

**Um, **Supernatural** episode **Good God, Y'all**. One part this time. Usually they're in two parts, but, eh, well, ya know. Next chappie will be mostly original and is something I've been waiting to write for a while!  
**

**Please review! Reviews make me motivated to write more!  
**

* * *

Chapter Two: Reacquainting  


Bobby is killing me. _Killing_ me. It hurts to see him like this, dejectedly staring out the window in his wheelchair. It's been three days, and I don't know what to do. Maybe distracting him?

"Uncle Bobby?" I call softly, walking into his hospital room with a chessboard and a plastic bag of chess pieces clutched to my chest.

"Yeah, kid?" he asks, still looking out the window.

"Will you play a game of chess with me?"

"Uh, maybe later, kid."

_Damn._ I sit down in one of the plastic chairs leaning against the wall.

"Cell phone, Cas? Really? Since when do angels need to reach out and touch someone?" I hear Dean ask.

"Hi, Cassie!" I call.

"Hello, Cara. You're hidden from angels now- all angels. I won't be able to simply-"

"Enough foreplay," Bobby snaps. "Get over here and lay your damn hands on." When nobody moves, he glares over his shoulder. "Get healing. Now."

"I can't," Castiel admits.

"Say again?" he asks threateningly, turning his chair around to better glare at the angel.

"I'm cut off from heaven, and much of heaven's power. Certain things I can do. Certain things I can't."

"You're telling me you lost your mojo just in time to get me stuck in this trap the rest of my life?"

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, shove it up your ass." And with that, Bobby turns to look out the window again.

"At least he's talking now," Dean quips.

"I heard that," Bobby snaps.

"He talks to me," I point out.

"Yeah, well, that's 'cause you're his favourite," Dean says.

"Pshh, I'm _everyone's_ favourite," I wink, and he rolls his eyes at me.

"I don't have much time; we need to talk," Cassie says, walking back over to Dean and Sam. "Your plan to kill Lucifer."

"Yeah. You want to help?" Dean asks the angel.

"No. It's foolish. It can't be done."

"Oh, well, thanks for the support," my human says sarcastically.

"Cassie, my boys can do anythin' they set their minds to," I point out.

"But I believe I have the solution," the angel continues anyway. "There is someone besides Michael strong enough to take on Lucifer. Strong enough to stop the apocalypse."

"Who's that?" Sam asks.

"The one who resurrected me and called Cara's ship to your rescue. The one who began everything. God. I'm gonna find God."

Dean turns around to shut the door, and Sam sits down next to me in the chairs of death.

"God?"

"Yes."

"God."

"Yes. He isn't in Heaven. He has to be somewhere."

"Try New Mexico. I hear he's on a tortilla."

"Dean," I rebuke.

"No, he's not on any flatbread," Cas says as the sarcasm flies right above and over his head.

"Listen, chuckles, even if there _is_ a god, he is either dead -and that's the generous theory-"

"He is out there, Dean."

"-or, he's up and kicking and doesn't give a rat's ass about any of us. I mean, look around you, man. The world is in the toilet! We are literally at the end of days, here, and he's off somewhere drinking booze out of a coconut. All right?"

"Enough," Cas snaps. "This is not a theological issue, it's _strategic_. With God's help, we _can_ win."

"It's a pipe dream, Cas."

"Dean," I warn.

"I killed two angels this week. My brothers. I'm hunted. I rebelled. And I did it, all of it, for you, and you failed. You and your brother destroyed the world-"

"Enough!" I snap, standing in between the two with one hand on each chest. "Bloody hell, too much testosterone in here. Now, _both_ of you, keep your bloomin' opinions to yourselves. Understand?"

"Yeah," Dean concedes, and Cassie nods once.

"You didn't drop in just to tear us a new hole or get yelled at by Hazel. What is it you want?" Bobby interrupts.

"I did come for something. An amulet," Castiel confirms.

"An amulet? What kind?"

"Very rare. Very powerful. It burns hot in God's presence. It'll help me find him."

"What, like a God EMF?" Sam wonders.

Cas nods.

"Well, I don't know what you're talking about. I got nothing like that," Bobby tells him.

"All I've got is my TARDIS key an' the locket Dean gave me," I pull the two chains out of my top. The locket Dean gave me for Christmas lays comfortably in between my breasts, and the key reaches my navel. I never take them off.

"I know. You don't." Castiel looks at Dean's amulet and back at his face.

"What, this?" Dean pulls it out of his shirt.

"May I borrow it?"

"No."

"Dean. Give it to me."

Dean thinks it over for a few moments, then acquiesces.

"Alright, I guess." He takes it off and holds it out for Cas to take, but pulls it back when the angel reaches for it. "Don't lose it," he stresses each word before allowing Cas to take it. "Oh, great, now I feel naked."

"I'll be in touch," Castiel promises, and disappears.

"When you find God, tell him to send legs!" Bobby shouts.

"Hey, Bobby, your mobile's going off," I rifle through his overnight bag and hand him the ringing device.

"Hello? I can't hear you. Where are you? Colora-Colorado? River Pass, Colorado? Rufus? You there? Ruf-Rufus? Balls," Bobby swears, hanging up the phone.

* * *

I may or may not have inadvertently annoyed the shit out of my boys by listening to 'Elastic Heart' by Sia repeatedly (trying to memorize the lyrics because I think I may have fallen in love with it) while driving to River Pass, Colorado. Seriously, only song that played from my phone was 'Elastic Heart'. I like the lyrics, and I like the beat and overall sound of it. But, apparently my piece-of-shit earbuds leak sound, so they heard the song a thousand times, too. Meh, not my problem.

The car comes to a slow stop and I open my eyes to look out the wind shield.

"Damn, who blew up the road?" I ask, climbing out of the car to look down through the gaping hole. "Is that the only one in?"

Dean walks towards the edge and kicks a rock through.

"Only road in or out," he confirms.

"No signal, either," Sam informs as his primitive cell phone beeps.

"Rufus was right. Demons got this place locked down."

"Looks like we're hiking in."

"Unless, Hazel, your vortex-whatever working?" Dean asks, looking at me.

"Nope. Gotta get the damn thing fixed," I answer.

"And the hits just keep on coming."

He walks back to pop the trunk so we can load ourselves up with weapons and ammunition.

* * *

Holy wow, it's a ghost town. There's _nothing_. Cars are overturned or left running. There's no one out or in shops as far as I can see. Sprinklers are left on. We're on high alert. There's no one in the overturned car far as I can tell. I crunch through the glass and continue down the road with my boys on either side of me and a sawed-off in my hands.

Sam walks over to a car playing 'Spirit in the Sky' and switches off the engine, and we continue on our way. Dean whistles when he sees a red Mustang, and I fondly roll my eyes. There's a sparking wire hanging from a building and blood on the ground.

A gun cocks behind us and I whirl around, gun raised.

"Ellen?" Sam asks, confused.

"Hello, boys. And Hazel," she greets, gun still trained.

"Hullo, Ellen," I lower my weapon, and she does the same.

"Ellen, what the hell's going on here?" Dean asks before she splashes us all with holy water.

"Ew, horse piss," I groan, spitting it out and wipe the taste off my tongue as Ellen aims at us again.

"We're us," Dean says simply, and she lowers her weapon again. Ellen leads us down the street into a different building with a devil's trap and salt in the doorway.

"Glad to see you again, kids," she says as we walk down a set of stairs.

"Wha's goin' on?" I ask her.

"More than I can handle alone."

"How many demons are there?" Sam asks.

"Pretty much whole town, minus the dead people and these guys. So... this is it, right? End times?" she turns around to look at us. "It's gotta be."

"Seems like it."

She turns back around and knocks on the door. "It's me," Ellen says. Someone peeks through a carved peephole before opening the door. A man answers and lets us in. In what looks to be like a room of a church, there are thirteen men and women, but it looks like only a handful of them can actually fight.

"This is Sam and Dean and Hazel," Ellen introduces. "They're hunters. Here to help."

"You guys hip to this whole demon thing?" the man who answers the door asks.

"Yeah, are _you_?" Dean retorts.

"My wife's eyes turned black. She came at me with a brick," a man in a suit and glasses sitting at the table in the middle of the room states. "Kind of makes you embrace the paranormal."

"M'sorry," I say sympathetically.

"Alright, catch us up," Dean orders Ellen.

"I doubt I know much more than _you_," she answers. "Rufus called, said he was in town investigating omens. All of a sudden, the whole town was possessed. Me and Jo were nearby-"

"You're hunting with _Jo_?"

"Yeah, for a while now. We got here, and the place-well the place was like you see it. Couldn't find Rufus. Then me and Jo got separated. I was out looking when I found you."

"We'll find her, Ellen," I reassure her.

"Either way, these people cannot just sit here," Sam says. "We got to get them out _now_.

"No, it's not that easy. I've been trying. We already made a run for it once," Ellen tells him.

"What happened?"

"There used to be twenty of us."

"Well, there's four of _us_ now," Dean says assuredly.

"You don't know what it's like out there," Ellen insists. "Demons are _everywhere_. We won't be able to cover everybody."

"What if we get everyone guns?" Sam suggests.

"What, are you gonna arm up baby bump over here?" Dean retorts, gesturing to the pregnant woman.

"More salt we can fire at once, more demons we can keep away," he rationalizes.

Dean internally debates that statement.

"Okay, there's a sporting-goods storer we passed on Main on the way in," he acquiesces. "I bet they got guns."

"Alight," Sam clears his throat. "You stay. We'll go."

"What about-"

"If Jo and Rufus are out there, we'll bring them back," he tells Ellen.

"We'll see you soon, Ellen," I assure her and follow my boys out.

Is it such a surprise that they immediately start in on each other?

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on," Dean stops us before we can head up the stairs. "Why don't _I_ just go?"

"What? Alone?" Sam asks.

"Well, yeah, or with Hazel. Somebody's gotta stay here and start giving them Shotgun 101."

"Yeah. Ellen."

"No, no, no. It's gonna go a lot faster if you stay and help, okay?"

"While you go get guns and salt _and_ look for Jo and Rufus? That's stupid."

"I can handle it."

"You don't want me going out there."

"I didn't say that."

"Around _demons_."

"I didn't say that!"

"Both of you, knock it off," I interrupt, getting in the middle. "You two go, by yourselves, an' don't kill each other, yeah? I'll stay here."

"Hazel-" Dean protests.

"_Go._ I'll teach 'em Shotgun 101."

"But-"

"You can live without me for an hour," I roll my eyes. "Now, don't make me tell you two twice. Oi, an' you bring each other back in one piece," I call as they leave. I walk back towards the door and knock twice. "Hello? It's Hazel! Can you let me back in?"

The man opens the door again and lets me in.

"Hazel?" Ellen asks.

"Those two idiots need some time to themselves," is all I say.

"Is that your real hair colour?" one of the men, twenty-two or twenty-three asks, rising from his spot and pulling on one of my red locks. I grab his hand, twist his arm around his back, and bend his wrist. He yelps in pain and Ellen smiles.

"Yes, it is. An' you should be afraid of redheads. We're known to be," I lean in to whisper into his ear, "temperamental." Then I release him, and he moves away from me pretty fast. "Terrifying, too," I add, and he learns then and there that I'm not a force to be messed with.

"Don't injure the locals," Ellen rebukes me, but with a smile on her face.

"I wasn't injurin' 'im," I protest. "Fine, fine. Shotgun 101 starts when Dean an' Sam get back." Then, thinking about my damaged vortex manipulator, "Hey, anyone here good at fixin' thin's?"

Nope.

Long shot, anyway.

* * *

"Hey, it's us," Dean bangs on the door four times. I hop up from my spot on the floor to unlock the door.

"Did you kill each other?" I ask before opening the door.

"Hazel, just let us in." I can hear the small smile in Sam's voice. I flip the bingo card to look through the peep-hole and Dean glares at me.

"Well, you both _appear_ to be alive," I purse my lips but let them in nonetheless. Dean drops a sack of goods on the table. "Bring me back coffee?"

"You didn't ask," Dean says. "And where the hell would you expect me to find an open coffee shop, Hazel?"

"Ooh, someone's a bit grumpy, eh?"

"Bite me."

"Only if you want me to," I flirt.

Sam pretends to gag and I shove him away.

"Okay," I clap my hands once, "Shotgun 101."

I let Dean and Sam and Ellen take the lead on 'teaching' and basically stay out of the way until I'm called. That is, until the obnoxious kid that messed with my hair earlier starts hitting on me.

"Oh, my god, did y'not learn your lesson?" I ask, shoving him away, laughing. "You just don't know when t'quit!"

"What can I say, I like beautiful women," he flirts. I roll my eyes.

"Love the compliment, thanks for that. You still don't have a chance, though."

"Oh, c'mon, British beauty."

"_So_ sorry," I smile sarcastically before skipping over to my boyfriend and giving him a kiss. "Hullo, sweetheart."

"Hey, Hazelnut. Austin, you know your way around a gun at all?"

Austin expertly dismantles the rifle Dean set on the table, completely taking it apart. Damn.

"Hmm. Where'd you serve?" he asks.

"Fallujah. Two tours. Got back a little over a year ago. Takes one to know one. Where'd you serve?"

"Hell."

"No, seriously."

"Seriously. Hell."

And with that, my boyfriend walks off to check on a brooding Sam sitting in a corner.

"He serious?" Austin asks. "Hell."

"Unfortunately. Before I met him, though. Really his story to tell, not mine." And with that, I walk towards my boys, who look suspiciously like they're arguing. "Are you two arguing?" I ask, crossing my arms.

"No, Hazel, we're not arguing," Sam waves off.

"Suspicious, suspicious," I murmur, and they both turn to look at me. "What?" I ask innocently.

"Hey, I'll be back," Ellen comes up to us.

"What? Where you goin'?" I turn to look at her.

"I can't sit here on my ass. My daughter's out there somewhere. I'm not back in half an hour, go. Get these people out of here."

"Ellen, you shouldn't go by yourself."

"Hazel's right, I'll go with you," Sam suggests, standing.

"Whoa, hold on. Can I talk to you for a second?" Dean asks before pulling Sam into another room.

"What the-"

"Long story," I interrupt Ellen Harvelle. "Not my place to tell. Oi!" I snap at them when Sam shoves Dean into a wall. "Knock it off, you two, or I'll smack you upside the head!" Idiots. I walk over to them and get in the middle. "You two are actin' like _children_," I hiss. "Sam goes and Dean stays. Got it?"

"But-"

"_Don't you argue_ with me, Dean Winchester," I order, pointing a finger into his chest three times, accenting my words. "S'not gonna kill either of us if Sam goes. He's quite capable. Okay? Bye, Samster."

* * *

Learning from last time, I don't mess with Dean when he paces.

"Sam an' Ellen will be fine, Dean," I say reassuringly. He ignores me. I growl at him softly and turn to ignoring him as I pull out my phone to play on it. Dammit freaking TwoDots I am so done.

"The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want," the pastor prays. "He layeth me down in green pastures, and he raiseth me up again.

Dean's pacing is getting on my nerves.

"Oh, that tears it," I slam my phone on the table and hop off it. I grip Dean's arms (since I can't restrain him by his shoulders; he's got a foot on me, easy) and make him stop moving. "Your pacin' is annoyin'."

"Nobody said you had to watch," is his snappish retort.

"Why don't you come an' sit with me?" I suggest, trying a different tactic. I don't really give him a say in the matter, but instead plop him down in one of the chairs and sit on his lap. I don't say anything else, and he places his hands possessively on my hips. I don't mind, in fact I enjoy it very much. We stay this way for about five minutes until I hear a sharp rapping on the door. Dean lifts me off his lap so he can get the door.

"Where's Sam?" Dean asks when Ellen comes in alone. She shakes her head and sits down to one of the women, who hands her a water bottle.

"They took him? Demons took him? Oh my god. What if they're in here? The demons?" the pregnant woman asks fearfully.

"Could they get in?" the pastor asks.

"The demons can't get in here," I say reassuringly. "With salt lines an' devil's traps everywhere? Nosir."

Dean grabs a shotgun and heads for the door, hand on the doorknob.

"Everybody sit tight. I got to-"

"Dean," I call patiently, and he stills. He looks around the room and takes his hand off the doorknob. "Okay, we need to get a plan together. Tell me everything."

* * *

"Dean, one of them's in Jo. We got to get it out without hurting her," Ellen states, scoffing. "It called me a bitch."

"Bruise a little easy, don't you think?" Dean asks.

"No, that's not what I meant. It called me a_ black-eyed_ bitch."

"But, you're not not possessed," I say. "Far as I know. Christo."

Nothing. Good.

"What kind of demons are these? Holy water and salt roll right off. My daughter may be an idiot, but she's not stupid. She wears an anti-possession charm. It's all kind of weird, right?"

"The whole thing's off," Dean says.

"What's your instinct?" Ellen asks.

"My _instinct_? My _instinct_ is to call Bobby and ask for help. Or Sam."

"Well, tough. All you got's me and Hazel, and all I got's you and Hazel. So let's the three of us figure it out." I smile when she includes me.

"Alright. Do you know why Rufus came to town? Was there a specific omen?"

"He said something about water. That's all I know."

"Hey, Padre, you know what she's talking about- the water?" Dean turns to the pastor.

"The river. Ran polluted all of a sudden," he answers.

"When?"

"Last Wednesday. And the demon thing started up the next day," Austin elaborates.

"Anythin' else?" I ask. "Anythin' at all?"

"Maybe, but it's pretty random."

"Ooh, I like random. Go on, tell us."

"Shooting star- does that count?" Austin asks.

"Well, I'd say so," I answer as Dean and Ellen share a look. "How big?"

"Real big. Same night. Wednesday."

"That definitely counts," Dean confirms, standing up to grab a Bible from the bookshelf. He brings it back and starts leafing through it.

"So, uh, you think that all this comes from outer space?" Austin asks me.

I scoff. "_Definitely_ not. I _know_ what comes from outer space, an' this innit it."

"Yeah, this isn't 'X-Files', pal," Dean agrees.

"'The X-Files' is as wrong as 'Star Trek'," I moan. "Seriously, where do you people come up with this stuff?"

"Hazel," Dean cautions, and I shut my mouth. He starts reading from the Bible. "'And there fell a great star from heaven, burning like a torch, and it fell upon the river, and the name of the star was Wormwood. And many men died.'"

"Revelation eight ten," the pastor says. "Are you saying that this is about the _apocalypse_?"

"You could say. And these specific omens, they're prelude to what?" he asks.

"The Four Horsemen."

"And which one rides the red horse?"

"Red horse?" I ask.

"That cherry Mustang parked on Main."

"War," the pastor answers. "You can't think that a car-"

"Mustangs' emblems are horses," I say.

"It's the way I'd roll. I mean, think about it. It all makes sense. If War is a dude and he's here, maybe he's messing with our heads," Dean suggests.

"Turning us on each other," Ellen agrees.

"You said Jo called you a black-eyed bitch. They think we're demons, _we_ think _they're_ demons. What if there are no demons at all and we're all just killing each other?"

"Makes sense. Maybe tha's why they've got Samster, 'cause they think he's a demon," I say.

"Wait, just back up. It's the _apocalypse_?" the pastor asks.

"Sorry, Padre," Dean says unapologetically.

"So now you're saying that there are no demons and War is a guy," Austin says in disbelief.

"You believed crazy before," Dean says simply, and then someone starts banging on the door.

"Open up, man! Open up! It's Roger!" he calls, and Austin checks the peep-hole and lets him in. Roger's breathing hard, as if he's been running, and he speaks frantically. "I saw them, the demons. They know we're trying to leave. They said they're gonna pick us off one by one."

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. What?" Dean asks.

"When did you even leave?" I question.

"I thought you said there were no demons," Austin says.

"There isn't. Oi, Roger, where'd you go?"

"I thought someone should go out and see what's going on!"

"What, are you crazy?"

Dean puts a hand on my shoulder and I fall silent.

"Where did you see the demons and what did they say exactly?" he asks.

"We just sit here, we're going to be dead," Austin insists.

"Shut up," I snap.

"They're gonna kill us, unless we kill them first," Roger continues.

"I said, 'shut up'! What, did y'not think I meant it?" Everyone falls silent at my sharp and firm tone. "This _is not_ a demon thing."

"Lady, we got people to protect. All right, the able-bodied go hunt some demons," Austin suggests, and he hands the flirtatious kid a gun.

"They're _not_ demons! This isn't a demon thing!"

Roger looks at us and winks. "Look at their eyes! They're demons! All three of them!" he accuses, backing away from us.

Shit.

I look at Ellen and Dean and see no black eyes.

"Do I _look_ like a demon to you?" I cross my arms. "Everybody stop, an' let's go about this calmly and rationally."

Nope. Damn humans, shoot first and ask questions later. Dean yanks me out of the room and I follow him and Ellen out as they shoot at us.

* * *

"You two don't have black eyes," I say as we hide out in an alleyway.

"Maybe it's 'cause demon powers don't work on you that you can see clearly," Dean suggests.

"You're probably right," I agree as we come upon a house. "They set up a bomb in that window."

"I'll go around back," Ellen decides and sneaks off. Dean picks up a rock from the ground and backs up, pulling me along with him until we're on the other side of the street. He chucks it through the window and sets off the explosion.

"You're crazy," I laugh before quieting myself again so we can sneak up on Rufus and Jo.

I spot Rufus first. He comes into the decimated front room with a gun at the ready and looks around. Dean grabs him as he peers through the broken window.

"Rufus!" I hear Jo call before she gets grabbed by her mum. He picks Rufus up and slams him against the wall.

"Listen to me. I'm _not_ a demon," Dean insists. "_Think_, Rufus! All those omens!"

"You go to hell," he retorts, kneeing him in the bollocks.

"Rufus!" I grab his attention, and he looks at me.

"Hazel?" he asks in disbelief.

"Look at _me_, Rufus, an' listen! Nobody is possessed! It's the Horseman, War! He's trickin' you!"

"Horseman?"

"Yes! The polluted water, shootin' star, red Mustang, s'War, Rufus, the bloody Horseman!"

"He's turning us against each other; you're hallucinating!" Dean adds.

"The Horseman," Rufus says. "War."

"Yeah. Lookit Dean, are his eyes still black now that you've figured it out?" I ask.

"No. Did you figure this out all by yourself, genius?" he turns to my human, and I smile.

"Alright, c'mon, now, gotta check up on Ellen an' Jo," I order, heading into the house. When they spot me, Ellen immediately aims her weapon. "Whoa, hello, let's not put any holes in me today, ta."

"We all on the same page?" she asks, lowering her weapon.

"Good," Rufus says.

"Hi, Jo," Dean greets.

"Hey," she says back. "Hey, Hazel."

"Hi," I smile.

"Okay, we got to find War before everybody in this town kills each-" Dean is interrupted by the sounds of gunfire, and we all duck. "Dammit! Where's Sam?"

"Upstairs," Rufus answers, and that's where Dean and I head up to. The first door we pick is the one Sam's in, tied to a chair.

"It's not demons," Sam says immediately.

"It's War," we say simultaneously.

"I just can't figure out how he's doing it," Dean frowns as he cuts his brother loose.

"The ring."

"The ring. The ring- that's right. He turned it right before he made everybody hallucinate and go hellbitch."

"Right."

"We got to move. Come on."

* * *

"People, cease fire!" Rufus shouts through the gunfire. "Stop shooting! Stop!" He takes a gun out of a man's hand and knocks him out with it. "I'm getting too old for this," he gripes.

"Father!" I hear one of the women scream and rush to the pastor, who's been shot. Ellen comes up to them and presses something to his wound.

"I'm not what you think, honey. Come on, keep this right here," she says.

I stand in the middle of the chaos, bullets flying and whizzing right past me but never hitting their mark. These humans are killing each other, all because they are being deceived. There's no rationalizing it; it's _war_.

"Stop!" I shout, power in my voice. "Stop! You don't wanna do this; lower your weapons! Cease fire!" With that first word, every human does what I say and stops their shooting. Then, slowly, lower their weapons and listen to my voice of reason, my eyes glowing gold as my mother's did on Satellite Five. "War! Come out and face me, you coward!"

Roger walks towards me out into the open and away from the cover of a house, clapping accenting his every step.

"Well, well, well," he croons. "If it isn't the little Time Lord. Sorry, you're twenty percent human, aren't you?"

"If you are implying that I am _ashamed_-"

"Not at all. I knew there was _something_ up with you when my little trick didn't work. Imagine my surprise for it to be the Doctor's Daughter, the Little Bad Wolf Cub."

I smile cruelly. "My reputation precedes me. As does yours, Horseman."

"Always good to hear." He glares at me for a few moments, and I keep my gaze steady.

"You need to stop this," I order.

"Or what, Little Cub?" he asks, chuckling. "You can't pull me out; I'm a _Horseman_. You can't kill me, and you can't stop me. Even _you_ aren't strong enough to do that."

"I'm not," I concede. "But _I'm_ not the one you should be worried about."

Dean grabs him tight and Sam holds out the demon knife for him to see. Roger/War starts chuckling.

"Whoa, okay. That's a sweet little knife. But come on. You can't kill War, kiddos."

"You're right," I acquiesce. "But maybe tha's not their intention."

"Something's coming, Hazel!" he shouts. I don't care what he has to say. I turn my back as Sam cuts War's fingers off to get to the ring, not wanting to watch, and take deep breaths to calm myself down. He and the car disappear.

* * *

"So," Dean says, looking at War's ring. "Pit stop on Mount Doom?"

Sam scoffs.

"Dean-"

"Sam, let's not."

"No, listen, this is important. I know you don't trust me. Just, now I realize something. _I_ don't trust me either."

My mobile goes off and I excuse myself to answer the little interruption by hopping off the wooden picnic table and walking a couple feet away.

"Yeah?" I answer the phone, and immediately pull it away from my ear as the combined shouting of Mickey and Martha erupt through the small speaker. "Yes, I'm ali-"

_"You couldn't have-"_ I yank the blue cellular device away as Martha yells at me again.

"I'm-"

_"You're damn right you're-"_ Holy wow, Martha, didn't know you had such a set of lungs.

"Martha-"

_"Don't you 'Martha' me-"_ she starts screaming at me again.

"Mar-Martha, I'll- I'll call you back!" I shout into the phone before hanging up and switching it off and stride back to the picnic table.

"Hey, do you, uh, wanna take the Impala?" Dean offers.

"That's okay," Sam waves off.

"You're leavin', Sam?" I ask sadly.

"Yeah," he nods. "Just for a little while, though. I'll be back."

"You better." I wrap around his tall frame and he hugs me back. "Don't stay away too long, yeah? An' you call if you need anythin', an' I'll come as soon as I get my blasted vortex manipulator fixed."

"Thanks." He kisses the top of my head before moving to whisper in my ear. "Keep an eye on Dean for me, will you?"

"I will," I vow, and he releases me.

"You take care of yourselves."

"Yeah, you too, Sammy," Dean says.

And with that, Sam walks away to grab ab bag out of the Impala's back seat, and then to a pickup truck. Talking to the driver, he must've convinced him to give him a ride, because then he climbs in the truck and they drive off.

We stay in the park for a while before we, too, leave.

* * *

**TBC**

**Please don't forget to review! Takes five seconds to say if you loved it, hated it (please don't though), or something you want to see, like a specific episode or something like that!**


	3. Cardiff part 1

**So, I suck. I know. I'm sorry. I made you all wait three weeks and two days for a chapter.**

**Real life kinda exploded all over me. There were finals, a deadline to get all my 100 overdue assignments turned in (starting in the middle of October at the beginning of September for online school is a bitch), and I may or may not have failed Geometry, so now I have to retake that. Then there was my mom and dad fighting all the damn time (now they're just ignoring each other and only speaking when they have to), rain so I couldn't escape to my rope swing outside (which is where I usually write tbh I get wifi so I blast Pandora radio and get my type on rabbit trail you're welcome), so I had to listen to all that, and take care of my 13-yr-old brother and my 9-yr-old sister, since they were too busy blowing up at each other to make sure things got done. I did have one good thing: my best friend took me to the mall and we blew over $200 together. I got the cutest blue dress! At Ross for $16 instead of $35 :). Anyway, then her brother had to go to the hospital, and now is at Doernbecher Children's hospital (13), and they're not sure what's wrong with him. On top of all THAT, my head isn't the greatest place to be in right now, and I had bad writer's block. Depression sucks ass, but, anyway.**

**I know it's not an excuse, but, please, don't hate me. I love you all very much!**

**Wow, okay, long A/N, over. Feel free to skip all that above, that's just excuses. I own nothing but Hazel. Torchwood S2E6 **Reset**, for all the people (**giddyfan**) that wanted a little more Doctor Who-ness in it. Better late than never, right? *smiles and hides*  
**

**Little bit of a surprise next chapter, which will be posted when I am done writing it. I'm gonna go start that right now, so, no pitchforks?**

**Please review!**

* * *

Chapter Three: Cardiff part one  


Dean drove until he couldn't drive any more, and I convinced him to pull into a motel after he'd nearly fallen asleep at the wheel twice. Our coupling was frantic and fast and brutal, but it was also satisfying, and we collapsed on each other, completely spent as we succumbed to sleep. This morning was more leisurely. We woke up late, took a shower together where we had sex again, and he treated me to a late breakfast at a greasy diner that (thankfully) had strawberry pancakes.

"So," I say as I spread butter on my strawberry pancakes. "Martha wants us to come visit her an' Mickey in London."

"'Us'?" Dean repeats.

"They want to meet you. I've also got to bomb over to Cardiff an' have Jack fix this piece of shit," I hold up my manipulator-clad wrist before cutting into the pancakes. "I can go by myself, s'just that I thought you might wanna come with me. Y'don't have to if you don't want to."

"How long would we be gone?" he asks, taking a bite of bacon and eggs.

"Um, couple days? A week, maybe?"

"We'd have to take the human way, wouldn't we?"

"Unfortunately, yes, we'd have to take an aeroplane."

"Airplane," he corrects me. I wonder who it was- him or Sam, that decided that I should start speaking American instead of British. Let me rephrase, I wonder how long it took Dean to be annoyed by the different words I use.

"Whatever. You wanna do it?" I look at him as he contemplates whether or not to come with me. He takes another bite of eggs and eats a sausage link before he answers.

"Sure, why not?"

He smiles at the excited look on my face.

"Really?" I check.

"Really," he nods once. I lean over the table and kiss him passionately.

"Thank you," I smile against his lips. "You've no idea what this means to me."

"When do we leave?"

"As soon as I get flight tickets, if that's okay with you."

"How- do you think we'll need weapons?"

"If we put everything in my duffel -including your own duffel- it'll register as normal on the airport scanners an' they'll be none the wiser."

"I _think_ we'll also save money that way, with only one bag to check."

* * *

"Martha? It's Hazel."

_"Oh, hello, sweetheart, have you made up your mind?"_

"Yeah, Dean's all for it, an' as soon as we're done packin', we're gonna head to the airport."

_"'Airport'?"_

"Yeah, remind me to pop into Cardiff while we're there, need Jack to fix my damn vortex manipulator. S'broken, otherwise I'd be there in five seconds."

_"Got it."_

"Listen, I've gotta go. I'll call you when we get our flight information, okay?"

_"Okay. Talk to you soon, love. Goodbye."_

"Chat soon, bye, Martha." She hangs up and I shove my mobile in my back pocket. "Almost packed?" I ask Dean.

"Almost," he says, rolling a shirt and shoving it in his duffel. "I know your bag is, like, _bottomless_, but, how is-"

"I'll show you," I smile toothily before zipping mine open and bending over the bed to reach one of my drawers in my ten metre-deep duffel bag. I open one of the many tan file-cabinet-like drawers (H for hooks, maybe?), and, when I don't find what I'm looking for, search in other drawers (P for purple, S for storage, U for utility) until I do find it (T for to be filed/too lazy to file). I feel a smack on my ass and immediately snap up to glare at my boyfriend.

"Couldn't help it," he grins, and I just look at him.

"Anyhow, if I just attach this hook-"

"That's not a hook."

"Yes it is, it's a utility hook, now shush. If I attach it to this wall in here, see, it just sticks on like that," I demonstrate, him watching my every move. "Not sure how, Jack or my dad could probably explain it better. I don't really question it. You done packin'?"

"Yeah, here," he hands me his duffel, and I carefully lower it in as I explain what I'm doing.

"You just flip this open, slide the handle on the hook, an' clip it shut, like so. Then a bit of sonic screwdrivering an' we're good." We both pull our heads out and I zip it shut.

"How will that not show up on the airport scanners?"

"Type of perception filter. Tricks the scanners to think there's normal things in there, like clothes an' a laptop an' shoes an' knickers an' stuff like that."

"That's actually really cool."

I smile and give him a quick kiss. "You ready to go?"

"Only if you are," he responds, and he kisses me again.

"Not productive," I say as his hands inch towards the hem of my shirt. I take them in mine to make him stop. "All of your weapons in your bag?"

"Unfortunately," he grumbles.

"Oh, come now, sweetheart, it won't be that bad. You can have them back as soon as we land."

"Fine, fine, let's go." He takes my hand and our bag and we walk to the Impala.

* * *

"Do you have any tickets for London?" I ask the woman at the counter.

"Let me check," she smiles before clacking away on her keyboard and clicking her mouse. "I've got open seats in first class and in coach for the 5:15 pm flight to London Heathrow airport."

"Do you have two seats together in first class?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Dean interrupts, looking at me. "First class?"

"First class is the best, and we're going to see _my_ Martha and Mickey. 'Sides, I've got the money. Really, it's no big deal."

"Hazel-"

"Dean," I copy, pouting adorably. "It's nothing." Money isn't really an object for me; with my sonic, I can just hit a cash point (ATM, Dean would correct me) and make it spit out all the cash the metal machine has. I don't wait for him to give in, instead turn back to the woman and buy the tickets.

Great. Now we've got four hours to kill.

Four. Hours.

"Food court?" Dean suggests, and I roll my eyes at the predictability. He is _always _hungry; doesn't matter that he just stuffed himself at breakfast two hours prior.

"Only if you'll split a thing of what you Americans call 'french fries' with me," I smile.

"Deal," he says, taking my hand and we walk to the food court. I like the way his calloused hand feels in mine. It's like they belong.

It's my first relationship ever, okay, don't judge me.

"Shit, I have to call Martha, hold on." I dial Martha and Mickey's home number and get their voicemail. "Hullo, Martha an' Mickey, it's Hazel. Our flight arrives at 9:15 am tomorrow mornin' at London Heathrow airport. An' the, uh, flight number is," I look at the two pieces of paper the woman in the dreadful uniform handed me, "five-six-four-four if I'm readin' it right. Oh, it's from Denver, Colorado to London Heathrow; I don't know the flight number. I don't even think I'm readin' this right, but, oh well. Dean, am I readin' this right?"

"I think so; aren't you leaving a message on their machine?" he prompts.

"Oh, yeah! Anyway, please don't forget about us, love you!" I hang up my beautiful special-ordered TARDIS blue iPhone 7C and jam it in my back pocket. "French fries?"

"French fries," he smiles, and we walk to a McDonalds.

* * *

We spend most of the flight listening to music on my phone, sharing a set of ear buds. Taking turns, he'd pick Led Zeppelin or AC/DC and I'd pick Fall Out Boy or 5 Seconds of Summer or Wonderland by Taylor Swift. Then, he accused me of cheating when the same song played about three times (that Taylor Swift one), so I set it to shuffle. Other than that, the flight was uneventful.

Martha and Mickey, as promised, wait by customs for us with smiles on their faces.

"Hi!" Martha beams, immediately wrapping her arms around me in a tight embrace. I hug her back in equal fervour.

"Hi, Martha," I smile back. "Hey, Mickey!"

"Well, look at you, Care-bear!" he hugs me. "An' who's this?"

"Dean, Mickey Smith an' Martha Smith-Jones. You two are in trouble for gettin' married without me, by the way!" I say in mock anger. "Mickey an' Martha, my boyfriend, Dean Winchester."

"Nice to meet you," Dean smiles politely, shaking Mickey's hand.

"'Boyfriend'?" they both repeat. Oops.

"Oops, ha, ha, did I accidentally forget to mention tha' on the phone?" I smile innocently. "My bad. Baggage claim?"

Martha and Mickey lead the way with Dean and I (holding hands) following shortly behind.

"Dean Winchester, where have I heard that name before?" Martha asks no one in particular.

"UNIT has files on everyone, maybe you heard his name in passing," I shrug.

"Everyone?" Dean asks.

"You should see how thick _mine_ is," I laugh, holding my fingers about an inch and a half apart.

"Tha's because _you_ go lookin' for trouble," Mickey retorts.

"Oi! Tha's not completely true! Trouble _finds_ me!"

"_An'_ you go _lookin'_ for it! Oh, the stories I could tell about you, squirt."

"Yeah, let's not," I say.

"No, let's," Dean smiles. I look up to glare at him.

"Do you value your life, dear Winchester?"

"Nope," he jokes. "I wanna hear every _single_ little embarrassing story you have, Hazelnut."

"Nope, nope, nobody say a word."

Mickey sucks at listening, claiming it's his his job to embarrass me as my uncle. But he doesn't really tell any embarrassing stories (except for the time Peter convinced me that peanut butter was good for my hair), he instead sings my praises. I'm actually not sure which one I prefer: the peanut butter story, or how it only took me three days to get through school on a planet called Academia (for Peter it took two, and he'd taken to rubbing in in my face whenever he could when he was that age).

"No, no, no, now that's not true," I protest while we wait at the baggage claim. "I _did not_ almost set the TARDIS on fire. You're full of crap."

"Care-bear, you're _such_ a liar," Mickey laughs.

"Oh, what do you know?" I jibe with him, pushing on his arm with my hand. "Oh, there's-"

"I got it," Dean says, walking closer to the moving belt of bags and grabbing our duffel.

"Ooh," Martha smiles, "chivalrous?"

"He's a big sweetheart, but you didn't hear it from me," I smile appreciatively as he walks back towards us.

"What are you two smiling about?" he asks suspiciously.

"Your bum," I quip, and he winks at me.

"Oi, I'm a married woman!" Martha protests, laughing.

"Yes, _but_, you _do_ see it, no?"

"Are you... objectifying me?" Dean asks, that suspicious tone still there.

"Possibly," I beam, taking his hand and secretly admiring the way his shoulder muscles tense as he flings the bag over. "So! Martha, Mickey. Where we goin'?"

* * *

Their flat is so cute! It's not big, but perfect. Perfect for them. Comfortable. And they have a little dog!

"He's so cute!" I beam at the little yorkshire terrier, giving him a nice belly rub.

"Oi, leave Sampson alone," Mickey orders.

"But he loves me," I pout.

"No, you're probably scarring him for life, now, get," he orders again, heading into their little kitchen.

"Whatever," I scoff after him, but let the yorkie go as he darts over to Dean. "Ooh, lookit, sweetheart, you've made a friend."

"Dog. From. Hell," is all he says, refusing to even bend down and pet him, and I roll my eyes fondly.

"He's a little _dog_, he's not _possessed_ or anythin'. Relax."

"I don't like little dogs."

"I can tell," I laugh, picking up the little one and rubbing my face into his fur. "Look at him, though, he loves me."

"Better you than me."

I tsk at him. "Big child."

"I neither confirm nor deny," he says cheekily, sitting down on their couch.

"I hate you."

"No, you don't."

"I know," I sigh dramatically. "Look at him, though, he's so cute!"

"Don't coddle Sampson," Mickey walks back in with a beer. "He's a killin' machine."

"Really?" I ask as Sampson rolls over on his back and lolls his tongue out.

"Sampson's an attack dog," he insists.

"Oh, yeah, the 'terrorist terrier', yeah, I believe it," I say sarcastically.

"Hey, I've got to pop into UNIT for a couple hours," Martha announces, grabbing her badge from a drawer in the little table by the door. "Please don't burn the flat down while I'm gone, yeah?"

"Don't worry, we will!" I chirp.

"Tha's not helpin'!" she accuses.

"Don't worry, babe, nothin'll 'appen," Mickey reassures her, giving her a quick peck on her lips.

"No way, I _know_ how you two are. Dean, you'll make sure they won't get into too much trouble?"

"Don't worry, Martha," Dean smiles. "Your apartment will be just as you found it when you get home."

"You've inflated his ego," I tell her, matter-of-fact.

"Has not!" he protests.

"Has too!"

"Has not!"

"Has too!" I bicker with him, like we are children.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot you know everything," he says sarcastically.

"You'd do best to remember tha', huh?" I say cheekily. "Bye, Martha!"

"Bye, sweetheart," she says before pulling the door shut and walking down the hall.

* * *

I would be content to listen to music all day in Martha and Mickey's flat, alone with Dean who likes to criticise my choices and the songs I have downloaded. Just lounging on their couch, his arms around me and my ear on his chest, listening to his strong heartbeat.

"You paid money for this?" he says, about a minute into 'Fancy' by Iggy Azalea and Charli XCX.

"I have a very eclectic taste in music. Shut up an' listen to it," I smile sleepily.

"You tired, Hazelnut?" he yawns, closing his eyes.

"Not one bit," I close mine as well.

It seems like seconds later when I hear, "Leave them alone, Mickey, they're adorable."

"You see the way that man has 'is arms around 'er?"

"Yeah, an' lookit _her_ hands, too. They've 'ad a long day, just leave 'em be."

"But Martha-"

"_Let them sleep._ We'll wake 'em when the takeaway gets here."

"What- did you just take a picture?"

"Yeah, m'sendin' it to Jack."

"Now tha's just cruel."

Martha just laughs. "He'll love it. Our little girl, all grown up."

"Yeah, he'll love it for about five seconds before wantin' t'put a bullet in 'is head."

"Oh, it won't be _tha'_ bad. Come help me find a bottle of wine for our late lunch," she prompts, and their voices fade away. I wonder what time it is. Early afternoon, at least. I don't feel like checking more in depth; I'm not completely calibrated to this time zone yet. I'm content to just say in Dean's arms.

I know the exact moment he wakes because he startles slightly. If I wasn't so attuned to him, I wouldn't have even noticed.

"You okay?" I whisper. His only response is to hold me tighter, and I burrow even closer still in his arms. "I love the sound of your heartbeat," I say softly.

"Why?" he croaks before clearing his throat.

"Dunno. Just do."

"Oh, good, you're awake," Martha smiles from the kitchen doorway, a glass of wine in her hand. "Mind popping over to the market for me?"

"What d'ya need?" I ask, sitting up and stretching.

"No, princess, come back, I'm cold," Dean complains.

"I think you'll get over it, sweetheart," I chuckle. "What d'ya need from the market, Martha?"

And that was how Dean and I got caught up in his first London downpour. We had Chinese for lunch with apple pie (guess at who's request) and beer back at Martha and Mickey's. We spent a couple of days taking up space in their flat until Martha was ordered to liaison with Torchwood.

* * *

_This is gonna be fun._ Martha is _so_ going to hand Owen his ass.

"This is gonna be _awesome_!" I beam in the car. "Are we there yet?"

"Couple more minutes, Nutella," Mickey smiles at me in the mirror.

"Jack told you about the nickname," I frown.

"Yep!"

"Wonderful. Excited to see him again?" I ask.

"Oh, yeah, end of the world survivors club. Maybe we'll all go out for chips an' tea," he suggests sarcastically.

"Share."

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Hmm." I give up and nearly escape frantically from the car -and Mickey's driving- to dart over to where I know the invisible lift is as soon as it's parked. "Martha! Ten quid says I can make it down there before you can!"

"You're on!" She tears off towards the tourist's office, Mickey hot on her heels.

"Dean, Dean, Dean, Dean, hurry up!" I start jumping up and down on the tile impatiently. He _finally_ joins me. "Heads-up, platform's about to move."

"What the- son of a bitch!" He wraps a tight hand around my waist (and I may or may not love it) as the invisible lift moves down, thanks to my magical sonic screwdriver.

"Hi!" I wave with my free hand.

"I didn't realize we were having visitors, Jack," Gwen frowns at me.

"Maybe that's because you don't know how to read the memos," I snap right back.

"Be nice, you two, I'm not gonna play mother, nor do I want to," Jack interrupts. "And, Hazel, much as I _love_ to see your ugly mug-"

"Oi!"

"And Dean's beautiful one-"

"Back off, Harkness, I have a girlfriend," Dean replies in stride.

"You're not who I was expecting."

"I know! We came _with_ them. She invited us up for a coupla days," I explain. "Martha owes me ten quid!"

_"Jack, your VIP visitors are here,"_ Ianto says over the intercom.

"Suddenly, in an underground mortuary on a wet night in Cardiff, I hear the song of a nightingale," Jack beams, dancing over to the opening cog door.

"Ten quid!" I shout.

"You cheater!" Martha accuses.

"Miss Martha Jones," Jack hugs her.

"Oh, s'good to see you, Jack!"

"Oi, hands off the wife, Captain Cheesecake," Mickey interrupts.

"_Beefcake_, Mickey Mouse, Captain _Beefcake_," Jack replies, indignant. "Wait, you got married?" he turns his stare on Martha.

"Without us!" I confirm. "She's Martha Smith-Jones now."

"Do you hate us, Martha? Is that what this is?"

"Okay, first off, I can _never_ get a hold of a version of you that coincides with me," she points at me, "and _you_," she points at Jack, "were gone on some case or somethin', 'cause you didn't answer your bloody mobile!"

"Wow, okay!" Jack holds his hands up in innocence, backing up slowly.

"May 'ave been buggin' 'er about it, just a bit," I admit, carefully hiding behind Dean. She likes Dean. Dean'll protect me.

"And you've been here _how_ long?" Jack accuses me.

"Um, er, well... Hey, guys! Come meet Martha an' Mickey!"

"You can't hide behind that gorgeous human of yours forever, Hazelnut. _And_ that's another thing we need to talk about! You dating!"

"My goddess, _you're_ the one that said you didn't wanna play mum, Jack!"

"You're right, but I'm your uncle, and-"

"_Anyway!_" I interrupt loudly. "Ianto Jones, Toshiko Sato, Owen Harper, and Gwen Cooper, meet Mickey Smith, an' Dr Martha Smith-Jones."

"_Dr_ Owen Harper, Hazel. Just a casual visit, or-"

"I'm here to complete your post mortem," Martha announces, cutting Owen off and heading down to the autopsy/med bay.

"Dr Smith-Jones is from UNIT," I clarify, following to the deck-thing/observation deck. "We couldn't very well leave Mickey alone-"

"Oi!"

"An' I knew that if I didn't come visit, then you'd 'ave my head, Jack," I continue. "An' this one follows me around like a lost puppy."

"I do not!" Dean protests with a great big smile on his face as he comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist.

"Lies!"

"Which one's UNIT?" Gwen asks.

"United Nations Intelligence Taskforce," I break down.

"Intelligence, military, cute red caps. The acceptable face of intelligence gathering on aliens. We're more ad hoc. But better looking," Jack explains, shooting that last part at Martha.

"_An'_ don't experiment on aliens, an' aren't completely racist."

"I identified a pattern from UNIT's data on sudden deaths. Toxic shock. Nothing to link the victims. Different ages, sexes, ethnic origins, occupations. But there was a statistically significant concentration in South Wales," Martha says, shrugging on a lab coat and a pair of rubber gloves.

"This is gonna be good," I tell Dean, leaning over the railings to watch.

"Come on, Martha, be honest. You just came all this way to see me."

"Still struggling to conquer your shyness, Jack?" she replies, not missing a beat. He laughs.

"So what about this pattern, then, Dr Smith-Jones?" Owen asks, joining her but staying out of her way.

"They were being written off as suicides or accidents. Look," she lifts up the dead man's eyelid to reveal a mark on his eye. "Puncture mark. Hypodermic needle. You'll find his bloodstream was pumped full of ammonium hydroxide."

"Ooh, tha' stuff's nasty," I moan.

"Yeah, Hazel, it is," Martha agrees.

"How bad?" Dean asks.

"Ammonia plus human, s'like bleach being injected straight in your veins," I explain.

"Yeah, bloodstream. That was the thing that I was gonna do next," Owen says.

"Have you checked his medical records?"

"Er, no, I was just about to."

"Well, let's give it a go. You never know, Owen, you might learn something." Mickey, Jack, and I try to stifle laughter. "What are you three, children?" she accuses, turning her scary glare on the three of us, and we immediately quiet.

"Yes," Jack replies instantly with a childish smile on his face. "Captain Beefcake-"

"Cheesecake," Mickey interjects.

"With my two sidekicks," Jack continues, "Mickey Mouse, and Miss Nutella-"

"Don't call me that!"

"At your service." Jack bows comically, and I throw a bottle cap at him. "Ow!" he cries as it hits the top of his head.

"Don't call me Nutella!" I repeat, and he just laughs. "I'm a redhead now!"

"Yeah, a fiery one!"

I growl at him, and Dean laughs at me.

"Children!" Ianto interrupts. "If you are quite done!"

"He started it!" I point at Jack.

"Did not!" Jack argues.

"Did so!"

"Did not!" he sticks his tongue out at me.

"Did so!" I do the same.

"Oi!" Ianto interrupts again. "Behave."

"Sorry, Ianto," I mutter.

"Anyway," Tosh continues with a smile on her face at her workstation. She taps some more buttons and a file appears on the computer screen in the med bay. "One Meredith Roberts, aged forty-seven. I know there's been a major crash on the NHS system, wiped a shedload of files."

"Including all the victims I flagged up from the UNIT data. And now yours," Martha says.

"A computer crash wouldn't delete data so cleanly. This is deliberate. Let me look into it," Tosh says, determined to find the files.

"Go, Toshie!" I cheer.

"Stop that," she blushes.

* * *

"So that's the hot house. Tour continues this way, ladies and gents, please. No dawdling," Jack says, leading a tour through the Hub.

"My room is up those spiral stairs," I tell Dean, pointing. "So's Jack's office."

"You have a room here?" he asks.

"Spent a lot of summers here," I smile. "'Course, that was before Gwen bloody Cooper's time. Some even before Jack became leader."

"Why do you dislike Gwen so much?" he laughs softly.

"She's racist, tha's why," I grumble, crossing my arms but allow him to wrap one of his around my shoulders. "'Cause m'an alien, I've no idea what m'talkin' 'bout."

"Oi!" Jack calls, looking straight at Dean and me. He narrows his eyes at my boyfriend before turning to the gossiping Martha and Gwen. "You two talking about me?"

"No, no, we were just discussing alien flora, weren't we?" Gwen covers.

"Oh, yeah," Martha agrees.

"She's no fun," Jack tells Mickey before raising his voice. "Raise your game, girls!"

"So, Hazelnut, do I get to see the inside of your bedroom?" Dean asks, loud enough for Jack and Mickey to hear.

"No!" my two 'uncles' snap, answering for me, making Dean laugh and me smile.

"Tour's this way, kids," Jack prompts. "And _not_ up those stairs."

"Spoilsport," I name-call.

"Rude," he fires back.

"An' ginger," I agree with a smile on my face, following the group back to the desks in the middle of the Hub's main floor.

"I bet your dad just _hates_ that you got to be ginger before him, doesn't he?"

"Most definitely," I laugh.

"You've got some well weird kit. What's this?" Martha asks, fiddling in a box of alien tech.

"Be careful. It's an alien artefact," Jack warns.

"Yeah, there's a lot of argument about this," Owen says, taking the object from her. "But, for my money, it's got to be a surgical instrument."

"Really?" Martha asks.

"He's just guessing. Typical medic," Jack throws in. "Any guesses, Hazelini? Dean? Mickey Mouse?"

"Not a clue!" I say. "I wouldn't mess with it, though."

"A weapon, maybe?" Dean suggests.

"Typical hunter," I scoff playfully.

"Says you! You didn't even _have_ a guess!"

"I agree with Hazel," Mickey says. "I wouldn't mess with it."

"Well, it's a good thing _some_ of us," glare at Jack and me, "are professionals," Owen says.

"Kiss my ass, Owen Harper, I am _too_ a professional," I fire at him.

"The only man that's gonna be kissing your ass is me, and I'll enjoy every second of it," Dean flirts.

"No flirting!" Jack orders with a glare in my boyfriend's direction. "And no ass-kissing!"

"That goes for you, too, Jack," I point out.

"Children!" Owen interrupts. "I was gonna demonstrate, but you're too bloody loud!" He takes a breath, glares, and turns his gaze back to the device in his hand. "Okay, right, well, I call it a singularity scalpel. See, what it does is it concentrates energy on a tiny fixed point-"

"In space, not in time," I say cheekily, pulling Dean back to stand near Jack and Martha.

"Hush. Now, as I was saying, it concentrates on a tiny fixed point, without damaging anything on the way. It's brilliant."

"It's amazing," Martha agrees.

"Yeah, do you remember the last time you did that, Owen, and-"

"Yes," he cuts Gwen off, who is wisely hiding on the other side of Owen and the 'singularity scalpel'. "Right, now, all we're going to do is," he grabs a paper cup that he sets on top of the small white table and a piece of paper that he crumples while he talks, "we're going to vaporise this paper," he stuffs it in the cup, "without even scorching the cup."

"This is going to end in tears," Jack says, pulling us farther back still. Owen starts fiddling with the knobs on the device, focusing on the cup and the paper inside. All of a sudden, Ianto starts coming up the stairs with a tray in his hand. The singularity scalpel fires, nearly hitting him. He screams, falling on the floor, tray lost. Ianto kneels up to glare at Owen.

"Oh, I haven't quite got the calibration right yet.," Owen admits. Jack's too busy admiring the pout on Ianto's face to ask if he's okay, so I do. He turns his glare on me, then back at Owen, wiping dust off his trousers before speaking.

"I came up here to say there's been another attack, not to get nearly killed," he frowns.

"You should put Owen on decaf for a week," I suggest.

"Oh, it'll be longer than that," Ianto threatens. "He'll be lucky if he _gets_ decaf."

"Sorry, you said something about an attack, gorgeous Welshman?" Jack prompts.

"Jack," he admonishes. "Yes. Assault with a hypodermic. Only this time, the victim survived. Woman, aged twenty-seven, she's in the hospital. Medical records wiped, just like the others."

"C'mon, everyone!" Jack calls, spontaneously kissing Ianto's cheek as he runs to the garage.

"Jack, not everyone will fit into the SUV!" I call, stopping him in his tracks. He has a really stupid smile on his face.

"Didn't you hear? Ianto let me get another one!"

* * *

"SUV sex?" Dean suggests. I push him out of the SUV and towards the hospital where the rest of the team is. "Well, they don't need us in there!"

"Shut up, m'sleepin'," I say, curling up in the back seat.

"Want company?" he offers, peeking his head back in.

"God, yes," I agree, and he crawls back in the SUV, takes his spot in the very back seat next to me, and I cuddle up next to him. Our three days of domesticity at Mickey and Martha's were officially over, and I just hope that he take to this case as well as he does his supernatural ones. Because one thing for sure, this isn't going to be a simple case. He throws his arm around me and I snuggle into his chest.

Which is how the team finds us about an hour later: eyes closed, his arm around me, my face in his neck (glasses in my hand), and his head on mine.

"Jack Harkness, if you so much as _breathe_ and wake them up-" Tosh's threat trails off as sleep takes me over.

* * *

**TBC**

**Please review!**


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